20 | Carson

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“Grandma,” I greeted and stood up.

Walking over, I helped her get out of her grey trench coat.

Her distinct peppermint smell never failed to send a shiver of fear down my spine. Just like it did now.

“You have no idea how surprised I am to not get your location out of a sleazy scandal sheet, I must commend you on that front. At least you didn't leave to start a sex cult here. I had a wager with Demmings, guess I lose another hundred dollars.”

Wait, another?

“And good morning to you too, grandma.”

Coat off, she sashayed over to my desk where she dropped her purse and sunglasses before heading to the corner to pour herself a whisky from the decanter.

With her drink in hand she landed heavily on the chair in front of my desk and crossed one booted foot over the other.

“Well don't just stand there. Sit so we can talk.”

I remained in place, hugging the expensive coat like it could help me understand what was going on.

If I hated my mother, I feared my grandmother. Carrie Miller had this no-nonsense attitude that scared me growing up and to this day.

She was the matriarch of this company and our family. Nothing happened without her say-so and she always managed to show up at the exact time that I usually forgot I had no actual power.

With nothing else to do I gently laid the coat on the only couch in the room and took my seat before my grandmother. Her hazel eyes held no clue as to what she was thinking or feeling, as usual.

My brother and I got nothing out of the specific Miller family gene pool: hazel eyes, blonde hair and the inclination to treat our children like trash, even though none of us had any yet.

“You wanted to talk, let's talk. I'm in the middle of something.”

All she did was sip her drink as the conditioned air toyed with yellow hair that flowed to her shoulders. Dressed in a sensible pant suit, she didn't look a day over sixty.

“Forgive me, I'm just trying to figure out what your angle is,” she finally said, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

“Angle? There is no angle.”

One perfectly groomed dark eyebrow went up. In that moment she looked just like a female version of me.

“Oh there always is with you. You don't just decide to leave town unannounced. And by road too.”

“Maybe I just wanted to get away for a while. Did you ever think about that?”

“And your best choice is Orlando? I know you, if you wanted to get away like you say, you would've chosen Switzerland or someplace else where is the weather is cool and the women are hot.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I wanted to go to Disney World,” I dished a humorless smile.

She pursed her lips. “Cut the crap, boy.”

“Gladly,” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. “Wanna tell me why you're really here? And don't give me that bullshit about worrying about me, you know we've always been honest with each other, grandma.”

She only replied with a smirk from the rim of her cup.

One thing my grandmother and I had that was missing from my relationship with my mother was the mutual respect.

Ever since I could remember she had always been civil with me. She was the one that introduced me to the world of business. When my twin showed no interest in our family's company she took it upon herself to groom me. Of course she did it with fear but, hey, at least she did more for me than my own mother.

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